Karen doesn't die like she thought she would. She thought it'd be something pretty anti-climatic — a nursing home, a stranger patting her matted hair, sweet words in her ear about how she won't feel a thing when God takes her. And she thought there would be more flowers. Bouquets of them, roses and daisies and those tropical assortments that you get for half-off at the Walmart garden area if you also purchase a bag of soil. She would fall asleep. And she would think about all the things that led her there. She would look back on all the things she did. Like once, she went mountain-climbing in the Rocky Mountains, and she went para-sailing in Hawaii, and she visited Paris and got a picture of herself standing right before the Eiffel Tower, big smile and all. And she would think that she did well. And she would be happy with how she lived and how she died. She wouldn't be scared at all.

As it turns out, God is cruel when he takes her. God sends Mandy Milkovich in Mickey Milkovich's ugly minivan. She doesn't have time to think because all she can see is the lights and the way the moisture on the pavement rattles with the vibration of the speeding car. And when she's lying there, all bloody and gross and still very young and still not happy with her life, she sees those ugly purple flowers that grow along the side of the road and she thinks about how the old Mexican immigrant who weed-whacks the side of the road hasn't been there in a while. She thinks about how happy he is whenever he sees her. He's always got a smile on his face. She wants to know what it's like to be that happy. She wants to know if he got to do everything he wanted to do and if he'll be happy when he dies.

And then she thinks about her mom. And then she thinks about Lip. And then she dies, like she never thought she would, and she never thinks about anything else.

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